Ironing
by Gateway2000
Summary: Jakotsu has always hated ironing. It was...women's work. Present-day, one-shot, BanJak


Disclaimer: I don't own. If I did own, Jakotsu and Bankotsu would be alive! Doing what, I don't know, but they would be alive.

Warnings: ...Does anyone really want to listen to a low self-esteem and self-confidence induced rant? I thought not. Oh, there's swearing and hints.

Ironing

Jakotsu trudged home from work unhappily. There wasn't much reason to be unhappy, at first glance. He was about to be promoted, and the weather was wonderful. The sky was cloudy and grey, and the wind was mild, but constant. There had been know bastards at work confronting him about his dress, manner, or sexuality. One would believe that it was a perfect day for Jakotsu. And it would have been! If only it wasn't today.

At home— home being a cramped apartment littered with junk— an extremely large pile of dirty, smelly, and wrinkled clothing was waiting for him. It was a monster, lying there for its prey to approach before it pounce and attacked, forcing him to wash and _iron_.

As a side thought, Jakotsu decided that he'd rather do the pouncing and on some hot, young male.

But the clothes! They had to be washed! To be ironed! To be worn! Just so the whole damn process could repeat itself. He had put this off long enough. There were no neat, clean clothes to wear tomorrow, unless he did it. And wearing stinky clothes was bad. Yup, very, very bad. So he would have to do...the...thing.

Jakotsu had always hated ironing. It was (he cringed) _women's work_. It wasn't even extremely necessary ones, like cooking and watching the children. Not that he had any, but God knew they had to be watched, if the younger him was to be any example. Renkotsu suggested sending it somewhere to be washed and ironed. Jakotsu could have thrown him out of the house for that comment! _Women_ might have touched them. His clothes. HIS clothes. An absolute no-no, _sir_. There was also that little, less important reason: he couldn't afford it. Mukotsu agreed with Renkotsu, and stated that the best part was having the women clean your clothes. They would get all wet and...ugh. It took Bankotsu to keep Jakotsu from maiming Mukotsu. Kyoukotsu ate and shrugged, it wasn't like he cared if his clothes were dirty and stinky. Ginkotsu just replied with a noncommittal "Gesh." Suikotsu, who was the kind doctor at that time, offered to help. Jakotsu refused, though, knowing that Suikotsu was struggling with his own problems at work. No one wanted a doctor that couldn't handle the sight of blood. One woman even said, "He's lucky he ain't a woman. No telling how he could handle it." It took Kikyou days(and nights) to cheer him up from that. There was no point in adding to his burden.

Bankotsu, his good-old best friend or something more, didn't fail him. He said that it was only a few times, since he had so many clothes, and that--, well, Jakotsu didn't know what, for they were interrupted by a certain Inuyasha out for his blood.

The agony was approaching. Jakotsu now stood in front of his apartment door, hand slowly inching for the doorknob. He froze. Five minutes later, he unfroze and his hand grasped the doorknob. He had never noticed what a beautiful door this was, a deep mahogany door with such a shiny brass doorknob that acted as a barrier from the evil clothes pile of doom. Ten minutes later, Jakotsu opened the door.

It wasn't what he expected. He expected, hell, everyone KNOWS what he expected already, but...it wasn't folded mounds of clean, crisp shirts, and pants. It wasn't a sparkling clean room. It wasn't Bankotsu kneeling in the middle of the sparkling clean room, surrounded by folded mounds of clean, crisp shirts, and pants, ironing his favorite purple shirt. Did he mention Bankotsu was shirtless, didn't see Jakotsu yet, and looked downright edible?

Bankotsu didn't notice him yet, so maybe he could put that earlier plan of pouncing into action.

"Jakotsu?" Damn, he noticed. And he was blushing. "Um...if you didn't want me to touch your clothes, I'm sorry, but you said you didn't like to do the ironing and stuff...so I thought that I could help you and...I'll just leave now." He quickly turned off the iron and set it aside before attempting to run out of the building.

"Wait a sec, Bankotsu. What are you doing here?" Jakotsu asked.

"You said you didn't like to do ironing and washing."

"So you thought you'd do it for me?"

"...Yes." Could anything get redder than Bankotsu's face? It was redder than Inuyasha's jacket!

"Aw, I knew I loved you for a reason!" Jakotsu glomped Bankotsu. "And you couldn't have gone very far anyways, you forgot your shirt! The police could track the trail of drooling people to you, and people might not let you into stores. I don't think so though. You're too hot to refuse."

"My shirt? Heh. While it's still off, we can do something _fun_."

Jakotsu licked his lips and purred, "Yes, we can..." before kissing Bankotsu and knocking him to the floor.

"Just because I did all that women's work for you doesn't mean I'm going to let you be on the top without a fight!"

"Shut up and kiss me." Bankotsu happily complied.

Author's Note: Ehehe...if it sucks, please tell me. It's just an idea I got while mentally complained about having to iron. 


End file.
